


The Slap

by second_hand_heaven



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Face Slapping, Frottage, Impact Play, Johnny is a brat, Light BDSM, M/M, On Purpose, Oral Sex, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Smut, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_hand_heaven/pseuds/second_hand_heaven
Summary: Archy's patented slap is legendary. Some might even like it.(in which Johnny gets himself an Archy slap, and Archy gets more than he bargained for)
Relationships: Archy/Johnny Quid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	The Slap

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it again with these two, but this time with smut! Who would have guessed. Obviously Archy and Johnny aren’t related, but if anything happening between these two consenting adults is weird for you, you know where the back button is. Johnny is filthy and so is this fic, so you've been warned. Otherwise, enjoy.

Johnny lounges back in the desk chair, long legs thrown over the right arm, back arching over the left. The painting, now his, hangs on the wall behind (well, beside) him, where he stole it from in the first place. Fitting, he thinks, the circularity of it all. 

He should be focused on everything else going on around him right now, but that painting has a way of ensnaring his attention. Archy's voice filters in every now and then, as do the voices of some of the others. A meeting in his home office is rare, and honestly Johnny can’t remember why they’re doing it here and not at some dingy pub or at that warehouse on the Thames Johnny affectionately thinks of as the Dunk Tank. Either way, there’s about half a dozen goons, plus Archy, in his office, arguing about something that he honestly couldn’t care less about at the given moment. He probably should care about considering it’s his business and all, his employees and his money, since dear old Dad is long departed, but it’s so  _ boring _ . Which is why Archy usually handles this side of things, but no, even Archy doesn’t want to be on top. Shame, really; he’d love Archy to be on top of him. 

He’s caught up thinking of all the things he’d like Archy to do while on top of him when his ears pick up a string of words from the conversation around him, words that only encourage the blood beginning to migrate southward. 

“I thought I told you, Danny?” Archy says, “One more step out of line, and I’d give you a slap?”

_ Oh yeah _ . This is going to be good. 

“Arch...” Danny tries, but Johnny knows Archy, knows that an empty threat has to be filled sometimes, and well, Archy is always fond of showing his fine technique every once in a while to remind the boys what he’s made of. Johnny likes these reminders, likes them a lot, and likes them best of all when they’re directed at him. 

This time, he’s content enough to watch, to listen. Johnny grins and waits. 

Three. 

Two.

One.

_ Thwack. _

And there it is. Johnny takes another drag of his cigarette, ignoring the thrumming rush of his own blood beneath his skin. Trying to ignore it, at least -it’s rather persistent. His cheeks flare with warmth like he’s the one that’s been struck by Archy’s hand. 

Danny’s whimpering from where he’s puddled on the floor, “sorry, Archy. Sir. Won’t happen again.”

Archy’s looming above, his back to Johnny, but Johnny can picture his expression, steeled and gleaming, sharp edges looking all the more sharper, deadlier, from the smile gracing Archy's lips. “It better not. Alright you lot, you know what to do. Clear out, I'll see you all tomorrow.”

Danny scrambles to his feet and heads out with the crowd, leaving behind a chorus of "goodbye"s, "Archy"s and "John"s. 

And then it’s just the two of them, just him and Archy, who mutters something about needing a drink and heads over to the wet bar over by the far wall. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, John,” Archy says conversationally, pouring himself a drink. “With Danny.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Archy says and takes a seat on the other side of the desk. “Your old man used to slap you around.” 

Very astute, his Archy is. It's never mattered before. But then again, Lenny's never been dead before and Johnny's never been sober. “Maybe, but not like that. That’s not like you.” Johnny smirks. “Nothing beats a patented Archy slap. Nothing.”

“Is that so?” Archy asks, detached and rather bored-sounding. He’s not bored though, not on John’s life. He takes a sip of his scotch, eyes intent on Johnny and only Johnny. 

“Yeah. It’s the intent, you see. The intent is all that matters.”

It takes a moment to realise that Archy’s smiling at him. “Oh? And do tell me, what are my intentions?”

The comment isn’t intended to be as charged as Johnny reckons it is, and he has half a mind to say something about it, but he’s got another point to make that bears greater importance right now. “You don’t want to hurt. Well, you do, but not a lot. That’s what an Archy slap is. It’s a warning, cautionary tale of what you can do, but won’t. It’s a tease. A little bit of violence, hinting at more. Len slapped to hurt, you slap to remind people of their place. And their place is below you, you reckon, their faces stinging, maybe a little blood from a misplaced tongue. And maybe it is, maybe that’s right where they should be.” 

How Johnny would like that, his face burning, reddened from anything but shame, brought to his knees by a strong backhand and a stronger stare. 

Archy looks at him for a long while. “You sound far too interested in the way I deal with my men, John.” It’s defensive, though Johnny can tell Arch is trying not to be. “They report to me, I report to you. How I deal with them is my business.”

“God you’re dense. I know how this boss thing works, Arch. I’m just saying how you and your slap work, is all.”

“Right.” Archy downs the last of his scotch and sets the tumbler down on the desk. “So it’s just me you’re interested in then, eh?”

_ Yes.  _ “Why, d’you think you’re interesting enough?”

“For you? I certainly hope not.”

Johnny tries not to pout. Maybe he should. Maybe he’ll pout at Archy, break out the brat act he’s been trying to grow out of, and see just how far it will get him. See how interesting Archy can be once provoked. 

Archy gets up and heads over to the wet bar in the corner of the room, glass in hand. He was the main reason Johnny kept it, since it wasn’t like he was drinking these days. Archy was the reason Johnny kept the scotch stocked, with Archy’s favourite no less. 

A soft  _ clink _ of crystal as the stopper is removed and placed on the tray. Archy hums a pleasant, thoughtful sound as he pours his drink. 

Even when he was drinking, Johnny didn’t care much for brand or taste. Alcohol was alcohol. But Archy did -does- so Johnny keeps an eye on sea level in the crystal decanter, refills it before it empties, all to make sure Archy can have a glass of scotch and stay a while longer in Johnny’s office to enjoy it. 

He’d laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic. Hell, he might even laugh anyway. 

The arousal from earlier hasn't dissipated yet, and Johnny's feeling playful. More than that, he’s so fucking hard he could drill through glass and it’s all Archy’s doing. Not that Archy will do anything to remedy the situation, not without some provocation. Johnny finds his way to his feet, moving to the other side of the desk. Leaning back across the surface, he lets the hem of his shirt ride up. Archy doesn’t look, or pretends not to notice. Rude. 

Time to take a more drastic route, then. Good thing he’s had plenty of years practice being a brat. “Archy?” He takes a few more steps forward. 

“Hmm?”

“When’s the last time you had a nice little prettyboy to fuck?” It's not exactly his best work. He's had years of practice in goading Archy into action, or tougher yet, into emotion, and this falls rather short compared to some other spectacular occasions, but he hopes it might be enough to do the trick. 

Archy’s eyes narrow. “What did you just say?”

Oh yes. Johnny smirks at Archy looming above him. “You’re looking a bit tense, is all. Think maybe you need a nice arse to fuck. Or maybe a cock up your own arse, that might be nice. Course, they’d have to take that stick out first-”

He knows it’s coming, but the slap still makes Johnny gasp. Fuck yes. The momentum has him turning, but not falling back on the floor. Archy’s holding back, and that simply won’t do. 

Johnny brings a hand up to his face. His cheek is smarting, but he’s hot all over. He glances up at Archy standing over him, eyes darkened and anger radiating from him in waves. Johnny stands there, letting the anger wash over him. His traitorous mouth opens and practically begs for more. “You can do better than that, Arch.”

Archy grabs him by the collar and pulls Johnny in close, close enough that it’s both threatening and painfully intimate. And just plain painful. Painful in the best kind of way, Johnny thinks, his face and cock throbbing. 

“The fuck is wrong with you? Do you want me to hurt you? Don’t you bloody tempt me, you fucking brat.”

That’s exactly what he wants Archy to do. 

“Ah, but Arch, you  _ are _ tempted, aren’t you? Even better, I think you’d like it. I’d like it, but that goes without saying. You, though, you’d like it too if you gave it half a chance.” Gave  _ him _ half a chance. 

“Christ,” Archy mutters, releasing Johnny’s shirt. “What am I going to do with you?

It’s not what Archy means, surely, but John has a few ideas of things he’d be more than happy for Archy to do to him, the first being to slap him again. “Archy.” Johnny closes his eyes. “Please.” He’s not above begging. 

Johnny’s not sure whether Archy’s being particularly obtuse or just plain ignorant when he tells him, “if there’s something you want, you’ve got to ask for it.”

“Hit me again. Don’t hold back, alright? I want it.”

Archy just stares at him. 

Anger flares in his chest. “Fucking hit me!”

“Is that all you want, John?” he asks with a tilt of his head. It’s suggestive, Johnny realises, taking in the heat behind Archy’s eyes. Finally, Archy’s getting the picture. 

“Hit me hard enough and it might be all I need.”

The muscles in Archy’s jaw bunch. Oh yeah, Archy likes that. 

Fuck, these jeans are far too tight for this kind of conversation. “What are you waiting f-”

He's sent sprawling with the force of it and finds himself on the floor, on his back, staring up at Archy. Archy looms as Archy tends to do, standing above Johnny with a dark expression, chest rising and falling a touch heavier than usual. Not that Johnny can judge, panting on the floor like a fucking dog. 

"Well then?" Impatient, aloof, demanding. 

Johnny tries not to squirm under Archy’s intense gaze. "So close, Arch. Just a little more.”

“You didn’t ask for more now, did you? You said one more ought to do it, but it didn’t. Seems to be a miscalculation on your part there, John.”

Archy’s fucking playing with him, and it’s both everything he wants and nowhere near enough. “No.”

Archy cocks his head. “No what?”

“No sir?” Johnny tries, confusion clouding his mind. 

Archy chuckles at that, soft and sharp. “Not quite, John. No to what?”

Oh. “No, I didn’t ask for more.”

“Do you want it?”

He does, fuck, he really does. But the way Archy's looking at him, dark and knowing, makes Johnny a little less sure of himself. No, not less sure, maybe more trusting of Archy to call the shots right now. Archy’ll take care of him, in any and every sense of the word. "Whatever you give me, I'll take it."

Archy smiles then, a sharp grin cutting across his lips. “I’d be careful, saying things like that.” 

And yeah, maybe Johnny should have thought twice about it. Archy’s got a mean streak, classic sadistic tendencies to boot. But trusting Archy is second nature, so Johnny stays right where he is, lying on the floor before Archy, and lets the man make the call for him. 

Archy's Oxford nudges his thigh, encouraging him to spread his legs wider. Well, that’s what Johnny thinks, until the tip of the shoe traces higher and higher. 

Johnny inhales sharply. “Arch?”

“C’mon then.” He nudges the toe of his shoe against Johnny’s balls for emphasis. 

“Bastard,” Johnny hisses, but he can’t stop his hips from rising to meet the barest hint of pressure.

Does Archy really think that Johnny’ll go for this, hump his shoe like a fucking dog without an ounce of control?

Probably. 

Archy knows him so well. 

There’s no point being shy about, not when he’s so fucking close already. Archy won’t judge him for it, not really. The bastard’s just as sick as him, maybe more, just hides it better. 

And fuck, it’s good, it’s so good he’s almost there. So close, just lying here, literally under Archy’s foot, rutting and grinding and begging. 

Maybe it’s the lack of blood to his brain, but he’s feeling awfully selfless when he opens his mouth. “Archy,” Johnny pants, “Archy let me blow you.” 

He’s pulled up to his knees by a hand in his hair, and he’s pretty sure the noise that he’s making is far from dignified. The hand stays in his hair, keeps him upright, directs him right where Archy wants him, which is apparently face first in Archy’s crotch, erection straining against his cheek. 

Johnny isn’t exactly complaining though. He steadies himself, hands on Archy’s thighs. “Christ, Arch.”

“Think you can multitask, then? Go ahead.”

God, he’ll try. He practically straddles Archy’s ankle, grinding his cock against anything that will give him an ounce of friction. 

He undoes Archy’s fly and works his cock through the slit of Archy’s pants, hard and waiting. Wasting no time, he ducks his head and takes the tip of it into his mouth, relishing the sharp intake of air from Archy. He teases the head with his tongue, laves at it with undivided attention. Where else would his attention be? He wants to savour this, if it’s the only time he’ll get the chance to be anywhere near Archy’s dick, he wants to make the most of it.

Archy has other ideas, though, his fingers tightening in Johnny’s hair. “Don’t be a tease. Get on with it.”

So he does. God it’s degrading, sucking Archy off and humping his leg in the process. It’s filthy, depraved, and fuck, it makes it all the more hotter. Archy doesn’t quite run his mouth as Johnny sucks him, but the soft gasps here and there are as filthy as a running stream of expletives he might earn from anyone else. 

Archy spills in his mouth and Johnny takes it, because he’s a fucking professional, well practiced at this. He’s class, that’s what he is. And besides, he knows how much Archy detests making a mess. So he cleans Archy off and tucks his softening cock back into his trousers as gently as he can manage. 

Archy’s palm cradles his aching jaw. “Good boy.” And God, doesn’t he feel treasured in that moment. Feels even better when Archy tells him, “c’mon then, finish yourself off.”

He wasn’t exactly waiting for permission, but he takes it anyway, grinding against Archy’s leg with renewed vigour. He’s been close for so long, it won’t take much at all. 

“Filthy,” Archy sneers, “such a desperate whore.” 

Johnny can’t help but agree, soft little “yeah, yeah, yeah”s as he works his way towards completion.

The hand at his jaw slides across his cheek and sinks into his hair yet again, gripping tight. “You close?”

“Almost,” Johnny pants. Fuck, he’s so close, just needs a little bit more... Archy laughs, sharply, and damn, Johnny should have seen it coming. 

_ Thwack. _

Johnny whites out. When he’s back in reality, his body is twisted, sprawled across the floor, a wet patch cooling in the front of his pants. His legs are still twitching. His cheek is on fire. 

Archy’s crouching next to him, hand on the back of Johnny’s neck. “Alright, John?”

“More than alright and twice as shiny.” Johnny hums, sated. “Nothing beats an Archy slap.”

He half expects to earn himself another for that, but Archy just grins and ruffles his hair. 

_ FIN _

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and kudos always welcome. Hit me up at my tumblr second-hand-heaven if you want to chat. 
> 
> -Nova xx


End file.
